


Pretty Lies

by viscaneymessi



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:53:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscaneymessi/pseuds/viscaneymessi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both need him, their worlds depend on it.  Feelings are an issue of the past and love may be used as leverage to trick a naive boy to make a decision he will regret latter.  There's no going back.  No second chances.  He needs to choose, and choose wisely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run

**Author's Note:**

> || Inspired by the novel: "Lifeblood" by Gena Showalter ||
> 
> Hey!
> 
> So basically Neymar wakes up in a strange place with strange voices that lead him in the wrong direction. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please be sure to comment any questions or just if you like the story! The support really helps! enjoy xx  
> p.s follow my tumblr blog: monetmarjr (if you want to) lmao I accidentally deleted my viscaneymessi account in case you were wondering ahaha :))
> 
> -Kiarra <3

Everything was black, except for the tiny dark shapes that danced in and out of his vision. His bare back was pressed up against the cold metal table his arms and legs were bolted down to.

It felt like a dream, as if he were to wake up in Brazil, to his mother making bread and coffee downstairs, as his little sister helped cook and hummed along to samba music. He could just see the bright morning light shining on their faces as they laughed and smiled, illuminating them like angels. His mother was twirling the girl as her skirt flared and made her look like a ballerina. As he reached out to grab his sister’s hand to dance, a blaring alarm went off in his dream disintegrating the scene in front of him.

His eyes shot open and were immediately stunned by the bright room he was in. The entire room was white, white as the first snow, a blinding shade of white, intense lights shining all around him. He craned his neck to look down at his body, which was still being restrained, and he gasped at what he saw. The man was wearing powder blue sweats, no shirt and had a large scar across his abdomen.

Alarms were still blasting through the room, and as his eyes explored more of the area he was in, he saw a large window to his right. This showcased people in lab coats, running back and forth frantically hugging stacks of paperwork in their arms, loose papers escaping their bunches like leaves falling from a tree.

He tried yelling for help, but his throat was too dry and no sound escaped his lips, no matter how hard he tried; the more he tried to escape his restraints, the deeper they cut into his skin. He groaned and stilled as he realized his wrists were raw from all of his movements and watched patiently as more and more people passed through his vision.

Though the alarms stopped minutes after starting, he could still hear the muffled screams through the thick glass next to him. Another girl in a lab coat passed, but before she could continue down the hall, she seemed to get hit by something and falling to the floor. Screams echoed throughout the hallway until abruptly stopping after a loud booming sound.

A couple people followed her route down this hallway only to be met by the same fate: being hit, falling and screaming until something (or someone) stopped them. Now he was beginning to panic, there was potentially someone with a gun in their supposed “secure” facilities and he was strapped down to an operating table.

“Great,” he thought sarcastically, “I’m going to die like this and I can’t do anything about it.”

Minutes passed after he could no longer hear yelling or any signs of life made themselves present to him. Through the silence, he heard what he assumed to be another gunshot and suddenly his restraints opened and he sat up on the bed holding his cut up wrists.

“ _Run_ ,” said an unfamiliar voice in his head.

The man looked around to see if anyone was in the room with him, but he concluded it was empty.

“ _Run. Neymar you have to leave now_ ,” the voice repeated.

“Who are you? Why do you know my name?” the man thought.

“ _No time to explain. Run. They’re coming for you._ ”

With that, Ney placed his feet on the cold tile next to his bed, legs wobbling, seeming like he hadn’t stood for quite some time. His arm reached out to grab the table next to him as he tried to regain his balance. He slowly made his way to the door as he heard another gunshot, this time much closer than the one before.

“ _Neymar, they will kill you if they get you, you have to trust me,_ ” said the voice. His hand fell to the door knob and he pushed himself out of the door.

“ _Go right_ ,” the voice commanded. As he turned, he saw the bodies of the people he saw from before, the ones that fell in front of his window. His stomach churned as he saw their once white lab coats covered in scarlet, but he knew he couldn’t help them and had to continue. As he got to the next hallway, he began to hear the voices from down some halls of men yelling to each other in a language he couldn’t understand.

“ _Left_ ,” the voice said, intruding his thoughts once again. Neymar ran quickly through bland colored, empty hallways covered with “inspiring messages” and crayon drawn artwork.

He approached another split in the hallway and frantically waited for the voices to lead him in the right direction but no one spoke, his mind was silent, as if the robber had left his thoughts as quickly as he had come. Neymar reached up and pounded on his temples with closed fists as he tried to make the voice speak to him, to bring him to safety, but to no avail.

He was alone again.

The boy stood there for a moment trying to think about what to do, but he heard footsteps quickly approaching him from down the hall and then a man in a lab coat rounded a corner holding a large gun.

“Hey you! Stop right there,” his thick, accent voice boomed, while he began to run towards him. Neymar panicked and decided to go down the hallway to the right.

However, the voice returned, “ _Wrong way. You have to go back_ ,” it said.

“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier. He’ll get me if I go back,” Neymar rebutted.

“ _This hallway is a dead end, if you continue down this way do you will be too_ ,” the voice replied quickly.

Neymar had to spin on his heel and swiftly retrace his path to the other hallway, with the man right on his tail. As he came up to the next split in the path, there were three ways to go. He glanced behind him and the man was about fifty feet away, quickly gaining on him.

“Now where?” he thought, hoping to hear the voice help him again. But this time, it was a different voice, it was deeper and more commanding

“ _Left. Go left,_ ” as Neymar was about to turn left, the original voice butted in and yelled, “ _Right. Don’t trust him, he’s trying to lead you in the wrong direction_.”

“ _Lionel shut up, he needs to go left_.”

“ _Cristiano stay out of this.  I was here first, he’s mine_.”

“ _He’s not yours. He’s the one who decides, stop claiming everyone just like you did last time_.”

“ _Oh quit being a child Cr-._ ” Neymar was spinning in circles trying to figure out which way to go, who to trust and decided to not trust either of them. With that choice he began to run through the hallway straight in front of him, out of pure terror of what was behind him.

“ _NO!_ ” both voices screamed in unison, as Neymar ran straight to the end of a empty corridor. Lights flickered above him, and the ground shook as he continued running aimlessly.

“ _Neymar, you’ve run down a dead end,_ ” the first voice said somberly.

“ _This is all your fault Leo_ ,” yelled the second voice.

“ _We would have been fine if you wouldn’t have intruded,_ ”

“ _Why do you alwa- Neymar watch out!_ ” He felt a sharp pinch of a needle on the side of his neck and as he reached up to feel what was stinging him, his arms lost all function and his eyes began to shut.

Hot liquid dispersed from his neck all the way down his body, shutting down all function and he collapsed on the hard floor. His veins felt like they were boiling and pain consumed his entire being, dark spots shadowing his vision.

“ _Just wait for me. I’ll save you_ ,” the first voice managed to say, just before Neymar’s head smashed against the tile floor causing him to pass out, yet again, consumed by pure darkness.


	2. Evergreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar makes a new friend, maybe he's not as new as he thought. He's given a second chance at escape, can he finally flee Evergreen Asylum once and for all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >>>>>> PLEASE READ CHAPTER NOTES IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTANDING/NO CONFUSION  
> || Inspired by the novel: "Lifeblood" by Gena Showalter ||
> 
> Hey!
> 
> So this chapter may be a bit confusing so the voices in his head are italicized and the "real" voices are just in regular text. Also the name of the "asylum" is called Evergreen just in case you were wondering why this chapter is named that.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please be sure to comment any questions or just if you like the story! The support really helps! enjoy this hella long updatexx  
> p.s follow my tumblr blog: monetmarjr (if you want to)
> 
> -Kiarra <3

He was awaken by a loud banging sound that echoed through the walls of his cell.  

“Get your ass up.  It’s medication time,” a voice with a thick accent boomed, then carried on to the next rooms.  

Neymar sat up in his bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and stretching his arms and neck, moaning contently from the good sleep he had.  He reached up to run his hand through his hair, but he felt bandages wrapped all around his head.  

Confused, he stood up and walked over to the small, cracked mirror that was behind a thick sheet of fogged plastic to look at his reflection.  He couldn’t see himself clearly because of the “protective” barrier that imprisoned the glass, but he could see that his forehead had been bandaged in white gauze, and there was a patch of deep scarlet staining one side.  

Reaching a finger up to trace the stain, he flinched as he grazed over the newly discovered wound.  

Bright flashes of memory flashed as he re-lived himself running away from someone, being injected with a liquid that made his skin crawl and hitting his head on the floor.  His heart rate picked up as he looked around his room.  

Nothing seemed to have changed, the room was still padded with bland yellow cushions (the kind of yellow like a stain on a white shirt, he thought), his metal bed was still bolted down in the corner of the room, and the sole letter he received from his mom was still hidden in his pillowcase.  Still, something felt off, like his entire room shifted one inch to the left.  But he knew it hadn’t.  

He tried to convince himself nothing changed, that it was all in his head, as usual, but to no avail, the sinking feeling in his stomach didn’t cease.  

There was another pounding sound at his door, “You better get out now.  Would hate to see you get punished again,” snickered the voice.  

“The medication will help.  It’s just in my head,” Neymar thought as he tried to convince himself.  Walking out of his room, he saw the other patients, everyone wearing matching powdery blue sweatpants and white shirts with their assigned number stitched on them.  There were people playing chess by sealed windows, others were talking to themselves and a couple even stared at Neymar as he walked to the window where he would get his medication.  

This was “normal” for him, everyone in their own clouded state of living as they downed cocktails of bright pills and sedatives every morning.  

“For a better life,” the nurse would say as he handed each patient their medicine and checked their name off his list for the day.  Nothing ever seemed to get better though, he would see patients come in and he couldn’t ever remember seeing them leave, just some wouldn’t be there for medication time the next day.  He never knew if he just couldn’t remember them leaving or the people who came here just disappeared sometimes, and he never questioned it.  

The people of Evergreen didn’t like questions, he found, they didn’t care for arguing either, and if they felt that a patient was "too aware," they’d give them more medications.  That’s how it always has been, that’s all Neymar knew.  

“Good morning, 32, ready for your medicine?” 

“You know good and well no morning here is good, Sergi.”  

“Just because  _ you _ think we’re friends doesn’t mean you get to speak to me,” the nurse said as he narrowed his eyes and slid him the medications on a metal plate with a styrofoam cup of tap water next to it.  

“Bottoms up,” the nurse smirked as Neymar swallowed his pills without another word.  

"Hey, uh, do you know how I got this knock on my head?" Neymar tested.

"Yeah you sassed a guard last night, gave you the butt of the gun instead of the barrel. You're lucky," Sergi snickered, "Next," he said, as he shooed Neymar from his window.

As he was turning around, his shoulder collided with another patient, as he looked down he saw the eyes number 53, a man with dark eyes and crazy curly hair, “Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spat, as his fists curled up tightly.  

Neymar put his hands up in defense and muttered his sorry’s before heading to the back corner of the living room to sit by himself.  He sat on his usual chair, the one that faced a blank wall, and let the dancing shapes put on a show in front of his eyes.  Tiny triangles twirled around circles, they never seemed to learn new choreography, he thought.  

He tried to figure out what was real, and what he made up.  "What really happened last night?  And why does no one else remember it?" he thought.

 

...

 

The metal sliding doors in the front of the room opened just as the shapes had their grand finale, but Neymar tore his eyes away to see a tall, lanky man with a beard escorted in.  He seemed confident; head held high, eyes roaming around the room, finally settling on Neymar.  

Neymar could tell from across the room, his eyes were deep sea blue with little flecks of green in them.  He was devastatingly handsome, something he thought would change in a couple days of being here.  

The escorts unlocked his handcuffs, then left the room, locking the doors behind them.  Ney watched as the man headed over to the nurse who slid him medications and checked to make sure he swallowed them, smiling as he did so.  The new guy sauntered over to Neymar in the corner, spit something in his hand, then introduced himself, 

“I’m Gerard.  Transferred from Westbrook over here because they got too bored of me.  What’s your name?”  

Neymar caught a glimpse of saliva covered red and white pills as Gerard shoved them into his pants pocket.  

“How’d you do that?” he asked aloud.  

“What’d ya mean?”  

“How did you not swallow those?  I-I saw Sergi check.”  

“How about you tell me your name first, hotstuff,” he said, with a deep husky voice and hooded eyes soaked in mischief.  

“I’m 32,” Neymar said as he pointed up towards his heart where the numbers were stitched into his shirt.  

Gerard threw his head back in loud laughter that interrupted the silenced living room and rolled his eyes at the people who stared at him, “I meant your real name, I can see the number.”  

“We don’t go by names much here, but I’m Neymar.”  

“Pretty name, for a pretty boy,” he smirked as he saw Neymar look down, blushing, “give me the inside scoop on all the nutcases here.”  

Neymar looked around and pointed at two people playing chess, “Uh, number 60 is Lucas, he’s got OCD.”  Lucas had soft looking brown hair that fell in his eyes and Gerard noticed that he took extensive care in placing the pieces exactly right, even through his shaking hands.  His leg bounced in perfect rhythm and Gerard saw his lips move, forming the  same incoherent word over and over again.

“The other one’s James.  He’s depressed.”  James had dark circles under his sunken in eyes, and each time he went to move a piece Gerard caught glimpses of tiny white lines that trailed up his forearms.  

Neymar turned around to look for others, “Those three are the hotheads, number 46 is Mascherano, 48 is Pepe and the one with hair is Marcelo.  Don’t mess with them.  46 and 48 killed a guard about two weeks ago because he wouldn’t let them have extra applesauce.  It was pretty funny actually, but the other guards didn’t think so.  They got punished pretty bad I heard.” 

“What’d they do to them?”  

“The usual.  Shock chair and other stuff I’m sure.  I’ve never seen either of them look as empty as when they came back to the living room.  Their eyes made them look like- like they were vacant or something.”  Gerard huffed and looked around more and pointed to a boy sitting in the corner hugging his knees.  

“What about him?”  Neymar paused and didn’t recognize the boy.  He raked his mind for a name, even just a memory but couldn’t think of one.  

He clenched his fists and hit them on his temples in an attempt to figure it out, but gave up eventually, “I don’t remember.  I’m sorry.  I- It’s the medications, I think.  They make me forget sometimes.”  

Gerard nodded in understanding, and they sat in silence for the rest of the night, Neymar back to staring at the wall.  

“Dinner time,” the nurse yelled at the patients, who stood up and made their way to the dining hall.  Neymar stood, knees wobbling like they usually did and he saw Gerard standing in the doorway ahead of him, waiting for him.  Neymar took a couple steps forward, focused on his shoes and placing one foot in front of the other then his brain seemed to be wiped clean.  

He looked up, confused at why he was standing in the middle of the living room, pivoted on his foot and went to his bedroom.  Gerard walked in, noticing that Neymar was no longer following him to see the boy, sitting on his bed with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor.  

“C’mon Neymar, it’s time for dinner,” Gerard called softly.  

“Oh.  It’s time for dinner?  I didn’t hear the nurse announce it.”  He sighed, then stood up to follow Gerard, this time the new guy shepherded him into the dining hall.  They stood in line as workers shoveled slop onto their plates and then they sat down, Gerard sitting directly across from Neymar, not touching his food, only looking into his eyes.  

“So,” he started, “what’s your story, handsome?”  

Neymar stared down at his food and took a deep breath, “It was a couple months ago, maybe a year?  I don’t know anymore, there are no calendars in here.  Well I got into a car crash, that’s what they told me and I guess I hit my head really hard, because I don’t remember anything before that.  It’s like my memory was erased up to the day I showed up here.  They said that I wandered in, really lost and confused and took me in.”  

“Why didn’t they just take you to the hospital then?”  

“They said that I just kept escaping and wandering off so they needed to keep a closer eye on me.”  

Gerard narrowed his eyes at what he said, something from his story wasn’t adding up.  

 

...

 

A few weeks passed of getting to know Gerard and playing checkers and reading with him.

Gerard’s cheery mood never seemed to change, and he still hadn’t gotten caught for not taking his pills.  Days passed and they grew closer, Gerard shared stories of his past and Neymar made up stories of his.  

They hid their growing relationship from the nurses and everyone else didn’t seem to care.  

He gave Neymar the attention he craved, he would rub circles on the back of his hand as he read, trying to maintain his brain functions, and Gerard  would encourage him when he stuttered or lost his place.  

Neymar would ground Gerard when his personalities would switch, he always seemed to get lost whenever Neymar showed any affection towards him.  His voice would change to someone who sounded familiar, his eyes would turn a dark shade of amber and gold flecks would swirl around his pupil, like shooting stars, becoming a completely different person.  

The person he turned into wasn’t bad, it simply scared Neymar to be talking to someone he didn’t know, no matter how kind this new person was, so Neymar called Gerard back and pleaded for him to return and eventually he did, his eyes cleared back to the blue he loved and everything went back to normal.  

 

...

 

One night while they were in the maintenance closet talking, Gerard said, out of nowhere, “Can I try something?”  Neymar obliged, nodding slowly.  

“Close your eyes then,” he said in just barely a whisper.  

Ney's eyes fluttered shut and he heard the rustling of clothes next to him and then a pair of lips press down on his own chapped ones.  His eyes shot open to see Gerard above him, with his eyes closed, kissing him.  He finally relaxed into the kiss and allowed Gerard to take control, straddling over his hips.  His hands were in Gerard’s hair tugging lightly, earning a moan from the taller boy.  Teeth clashed together, hips grinded lazily until they were both breathless.  

They heard one of the nurses far down the hall yell “Lights out,” and immediately got up and scurried back to their rooms.  

Gerard wished Neymar a good night and whispered, “be ready,” quickly in his ear before hurrying back to his room.  

Neymar didn’t have a chance to question what he meant, but caught sight of the amber eyes that he learned to hate.  He went and laid down his bed, staring at the ceiling, those golden eyes branded in the back of his mind.  Everywhere he looked, the eyes were there, staring back at him.  Nights were always restless, but this night in particular he felt wide awake.  

He thought about how dawn was coming soon, and he still hadn’t had a wink of sleep, when the light above him flickered.  He sat up, staring at the now blinking light curiously.  

“ _It’s time to go_ ,” said a familiar voice in his head.  

“ _This time don’t fuck it up_ ,” another voice whispered.  Neymar stood cautiously, looking outside of the small window on his door to outside, trying to find the source of the voices.  Everyone’s doors locked automatically at night so he knew none of the patients were there, but some of the nurses occasionally pulled pranks on them and laughed at their stupidity.  

“ _Neymar,_ ” the first voice whispered.  He remembered that voice.  Memories of the night he tried to escape flashed before his eyes.  The locks clicked and then the heavy door swung open with ease.   “ _Run,_ ” the voice repeated.  

Neymar walked out of his room to see that everyone else’s door was open.  Then, the alarms went off, he saw patients emerge from their room, look at him, then at the exits and take off.  He ran with them, following anyone who was in front of him.  Guards were yelling commands at others from the ends of hallways and patients were fleeing in all different directions.  

The loud boom of a gunshot rattled through the hallways, and Neymar ducked, hoping it wasn’t aimed at him until he heard a scream coming from way behind him.  

“ _Keep going, you’re almost there.  Turn right,_ ” the voice intruded again.  Neymar saw others going the wrong way and yelled at them to follow him.  Some turned around to listen to him and they ran on ahead of him.  He saw Marcelo going in the wrong direction and tried to keep him from going down a wrong turn.  

As soon as he heard Neymar yelling his name he turned around, only to be shot in the back by one of the guards.  He looked down at the wound that made it's way through his chest, fell to his knees. then collapsed on the floor.  

Neymar looked up from the body to see the guard pointing his gun straight at him.  He stared as the guard’s finger slowly pushed down on the trigger when he was tackled into the hallway by someone.  He huffed and groaned, looking up at who saved him.  

Gerard and his bright amber eyes were staring at him, “we have to go,” he said, his voice sounding different.  

“ _You almost killed him,_ ” the second voice in Neymar’s head screamed.  

“Stay out of this Cris,” Gerard spoke in a voice that Neymar finally recognized as the first voice that was in his head, the one from the night he almost escaped.  

Patients were running out of the open entrance door into the dark night ahead of them.  More gunshots were heard, as they ducked out of the building and into the outside.  This was the first time in however long Neymar had been at the asylum that he had seen the outside and he realized that they were in the middle of a forest.  Large trees and bush surrounded them on all sides.  

Gerard’s hand slipped out from Neymar’s as they began to run.  They got at least a mile, Neymar thought, from the facilities before he slowed to a stop.  He was hunched over to catch his breath and when he looked back up Gerard was gone.  It was as if he vanished in thin air, and Neymar began to panic, screaming his name.  

His voice bounced off trees as cold morning air kissed his neck and a shiver went down his spine.  Neymar's hear raced as he retraced his steps back to where he and Gerard fled, straight back to the guards, but he didn’t care, he had to find him.  

He jumped back over logs and swerved between trees, his lungs were burning and his legs felt like they were going to give out and as he turned the last corner to the asylum he saw a guard standing right in front of him staring straight at him, gun in hand.  Gerard wasn't there to save him this time and he closed his eyes bracing himself for impact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAMER:  
> I researched all of these mental illnesses (a lot actually) and tried my best to depict how these people are/act, but if you feel that they are wrongly depicted or have any problems with these descriptions please feel free to let me know!! I am in no way shape or form insulting any of these diseases I actually find them very interesting and tried to depict them as how they are and not over exaggerating on anything. I am also not an expert and by me calling it an asylum I'm imagining this story to be set in like the future and the diseases will be explained in a different chapter (sneak peak: the patients aren't actually insane) so please don't be offended by me calling it an asylum, I am aware that it is no longer politically/socially correct to call it this I just wanted to use it for emphasis, if you have a problem with this please let me know.
> 
> Also, yes Gerard has a split personality which is Leo that's why he acts different sometimes, because Leo can't control himself sometimes and the real him shows. Leo and what he is will be explained in the next chapter but I would love to hear your guesses!!


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Neymar finds out about his actual past and why he can't remember anything and Oscar is in this chapter!!! for all you Neyscar lovers out there ;)). More explanation on the asylum itself and Oscar's role of the whole thing up next chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || Inspired by the novel: "Lifeblood" by Gena Showalter ||
> 
> Hey!
> 
> Sorry this took me so long to upload I was having creative block and couldn't really find the words that I wanted to say but I hope that this is good enough for now and I have some big plans for the next chapter (which may be up sometime this week lmao no promises, but I only have 3 days of school so I hope to get it out).
> 
> Also the ↓↓↓↓↓ are the start of the memories that Neymar has (in case that's unclear). And the italicized stuff is present Neymar feeling what past Neymar felt... if that makes any sense lmao.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please be sure to comment any questions or just if you like the story! The support really keeps me going and writing more! enjoy xx  
> p.s follow my tumblr blog: monetmarjr (if you want to).
> 
> -Kiarra <3

He jumped back over logs and swerved between trees, his lungs were burning and his legs felt like they were going to give out and as he turned the last corner to the asylum he saw a guard standing right in front of him, staring straight at him, gun in hand. Gerard wasn't there to save him this time, and he closed his eyes bracing himself for impact.

The forest around him got quiet, every bird stopped singing, the wind refused to shake through the trees, even the crickets stopped chirping; every being seemed like they were waiting for the guard to shoot.

Neymar’s heart rang through his ears as he stood still in the forest, but nothing came. No gunshot was heard, no bullet pierced through his chest, so he opened his eyes.

The guard was staring straight through him, as if Neymar wasn’t right in front of him.

Confused, he looked down at his hands. “Am I already dead?” he thought.

The guard took one last look in Neymar’s direction, then his attention was drawn slightly to the right of him.

“Hey,” the guard yelled, causing the patient whose name he’d forgotten bolt swiftly into the forest. Several shots were fired in his direction, but none of them hit the target.

“One’s going west towards the mountains. Get the traps ready. Over,” the man said into his sleeve as he began to chase the patient, running straight past Neymar. Ney was now alone, he looked around for a bit then took a few steps forward.

He started to notice that with each step, he began to see an orange-like tint to the forest. Reaching his hand out, he hit something that felt like a thin layer of jelly, and narrowed his eyes.

“ _It’s like an invisible bubble, humans outside can’t see or get you when you’re in this_ ,” said the first voice in his head, which he knew now belonged to a man named Leo.

“Am I dead?” Neymar thought.

“ _Not yet you aren’t. But, you aren’t safe here, you have to leave. Now_ ,” Leo said, then the bubble burst with a faint popping sound.

Neymar’s heart rate began to pick up again as he remembered Gerard, “Wait. I can’t leave Geri,” he exclaimed frantically.

“ _Oh- Don’t worry about him. He’s somewhere safe, but you have to leave now. I’ll explain everything soon enough._ ”

“You there!” a guard yelled from a couple hundred meters behind him. Neymar didn’t waste a second and broke out in a sprint in the opposite direction as he heard the barking of dogs fast approaching.

“ _Turn left,_ ” the voice said. Neymar complied and was soon in front of a clearing at the edge of the forest he took a second to catch his breath.

“ _Just a little farther Ney,_ ” Leo’s calming voice rang through his ears. He looked around, finally taking in his surroundings. In front of him was a meadow of pretty yellow and white weeds that led up to a giant mountain.  It was like something out of a children's tale.

As he took a couple steps forward, now in the middle of the brush, he heard twigs snap behind him in the forest.

Alerted, he quickly turned around, fists raised and ready to attack. There was a slightly taller boy standing where he once was, with his arms raised above in surrender.

He had kind brown eyes that were clouded with tears, and his beautiful face was etched with fear. Neymar knew that face, the red puffy cheeks, sad eyes, and thin wrists with tiny, faded white lines scattered across them.

The boy then looked down to his hip which had a circle of blood spreading down the side of his shirt. Looking back up at Neymar, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he collapsed forward with a thud. Running over to the poor boy, he looked around for any possible signs of danger, but the forest was silent except for the dogs that were somehow going in the wrong direction, so he began to pick up the limp body.

“ _Take him to the cave by the mountain, he doesn’t have much time,_ ” Leo said in his head. Neymar lifted up the boy, bridal style, surprised at how light he was, and quickly walked over to the cave, setting his body down gently against one of the walls.

His breathing was too shallow, his face was too pale and Neymar prayed he didn’t have to witness yet another death.

Just then Gerard appeared in the opening of the cave, without a scratch or stain on his body.

“What the fuck,” Ney muttered under his breath, “what is going on?” he said, exasperated, pulling at his hair in frustration.

“I’ll explain later. Right now, we have more important matters. Take his shirt off.” His side was ghastly, and Neymar had to look away, the sight of blood made his stomach churn.

Gerard used the shirt to wipe away most of the blood, then placed his open palms on the wound, closing his eyes, as his hands began to glow bright orange.

Neymar was surprised, but at this point, he still thought he was dead, so he decided it was best not to question it and make himself sound foolish.

After Gerard removed his hands, the wound was somehow gone and a light pink scar was the only thing that remained on his pale skin.

Gasping, Neymar stood and backed himself up against the wall, scared suddenly, “I-I don’t know what the fuck you are, or what you want with me but I know I’m n-not the one you want.”

Gerard laughed a hearty laugh, so hard that he grabbed his stomach, “Neymar, I’m a messenger from Adustum. I’ve been sent here on a mission to keep you safe while you’re still choosing.”

“So, you’re the voices I’ve been hearing in my head?” Ney questioned.

“Well…” Gerard started, scratching the back of his neck, “I’m one of them. The other is Cristiano. Take my advice, and stay away from him Neymar, I’m not just saying that as just scout competition, but as your friend. He’s only out to complete his job, he doesn’t care about you.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why do I have scouts? None of my other friends have ever had them. I’m just another crazy from the loony-bin.”

“Is that all that you think you are Neymar? You’re special, that’s why you’re in the ‘loony bin’. You don’t remember?” Gerard’s face of confusion then washed with realization as he continued, “The asylum wiped your memory so you would forget all of your potential, to forget how important you are to the war.”

Neymar was shocked and backed himself further away from the man, still apprehensive of what he was saying, “Prove it,” he jockeyed.

Gerard ran a hand through his hair and sighed, sitting down with his back against the wall across from James’ sleeping body. His eyes began to glow bright orange and then his skin. Neymar could only describe what he saw next as something like soul leaving the body.

The orange color began to fade into something a little more human-like, a man now stood in front of him, much smaller than Gerard, who’d he’d now call Leo. He had pale skin and soft brown eyes with hair to match and Neymar couldn’t help but stare at his pink lips that technically once touched his own.

“Do you want to see your past?” the man questioned cautiously. Neymar simply nodded then sat down with his legs crossed. Leo kneeled in front of him and gently pressed his cold thumbs to Neymar’s temples, the rest of his hands resting on the other man's head. He stared deep into Ney’s eyes and his own began to light up like the burning colors of the sun, and Neymar was entranced, watching the explosions of bright colors erupt before his eyes.

Flashes of memories began to burst in front of him like falling photographs, thrown haphazardly and out-of-place in front of his eyes. Eventually, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together and suddenly, _he remembered_.

 

↓↓↓↓↓

 

It was a chilly October afternoon nearly two years ago, and he was with the love of his life, Oscar.

They'd been dating for almost 6 months now, their anniversary coming later in the week and Neymar thought he was  _the one._ Together they talked about their futures and how they were going to buy a big house on the beach and settle down later in life listening to the waves while Oscar painted.

But now, they were playing tag in the backyard after they’d finished raking the leaves, cautiously avoiding the hefty piles they formed.

_He could almost feel the nip of the cold wind on his neck, sending shivers down his spine as he chased the boy around the yard laughing crazily._

Neymar caught up, as he always did, tackling the other into the leaves, pillows of reds and oranges puffed out around them like fireworkds, giggles escaping their lips as Ney landed on top of him.

He looked down to make sure he didn’t injure Oscar in the crash but the boy was already staring up at him, a large grin spread across his face as he contained his laughter.

Oscar reached up to Neymar’s hair and removed a leaf, pouting, “You ruined all of our hard work.”

“Oh yeah?” Neymar said, raising an eyebrow mischievously, “and what are you going to do about it?”

Oscar reached up to grab the back of Ney’s neck and brought him closer, lips almost touching, eyes burning with passion, “I love you,” he whispered, then closed the distance between them. _Neymar could still feel the hard pressure of his soft lips that were laced with his favorite peppermint tea he made earlier._

 

...

 

They were now inside, later that night cuddled under one blanket their fireplace, yellow flames casting shadows against the walls as the couple sat and exchanged whispered secrets and heated kisses. The doorbell rang and Oscar went to answer it, not at all surprised at who he saw, as he nodded to the familiar faces.  He returned with them to the living room as Neymar took in the sight of with a man and a woman who wore suits that screamed importance.

“Hello Neymar, we are with the Afterlife Protection Agency and we need to talk to you,” the woman said in a harsh tone.

Oscar went to get the guests water and when he returned he heard yelling coming from the room, “You must pick a side,” the woman screamed, “Think of the fate of the entire world,” said the man, though Ney never spoke a word.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” he finally said as the duo clearly did not respect his decisions.

Oscar escorted them out the door, as the man handed him the same shiny gold card he had gotten the first time they met.

“Since he’s still being difficult, if you still want to go through with the deal, call us when he’s not around. And don’t even think about telling him I gave you this, you know we see and hear everything,” the man said in a low voice, then walked out of the door without another word.

“APA Medical Testing Facilities. To engineer a brighter future,” was written in fancy black lettering. He slipped the card into his back pocket, then, when Neymar was sleeping that night, he snuck into the office and called the number.

The call didn’t even last one ring before it was picked up, “Name?” the voice questioned. “Oscar dos Santos.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone before a familiar voice rang through his ears.

“Oscar, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Tell me what I need to do.”

 

...

 

Neymar was awaken to the sun shining through the windows and birds chirping mellow tunes near his bed.

But something wasn’t right, the bed beside him was cold and Oscar was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual because Neymar always woke up before him. Shrugging it off he slid out of bed, wearing only his underwear and walked down to the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes of sleep along the way.

On the kitchen counter was a note and a cup of what looked to be like tea, still steam escaping lightly, as if it had just been made.

“Went out for a morning run, be back in a few! Made you some new tea, hope you like it. xx Oscar,” it read.

Ney smiled at the all too familiar scrawl of his boyfriend and lifted the cup of tea to his mouth to try it.

Sweet lemon and herb filled his tastebuds and he sighed with contentment, quickly downing the whole glass.

He began to walk to the balcony when his vision became splotchy. _He remembered the dark patterns that flooded his eyesight and threw his balance off, head spinning like he was on a ride at a carnival._ Trying to reach for the counter next to him, his limbs seemed to have lost all function. He crashed to the floor, nearly knocked out when he heard footsteps coming from the hallway.

Fighting to stay awake, he caught Oscar’s voice whisper in his ear, “Sorry Neymar, you are of no service to me anymore.”

 

 **↑** **↑** **↑** **↑** **↑**


	4. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about the beginnings of Leo and Cristiano and Leo himself :)) READ CHAPTER NOTES PLEASEEE I BEG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> || Inspired by the novel: "Lifeblood" by Gena Showalter ||
> 
> Hey!
> 
> As promised (and the first time ive gone though with one on here lmao) here's the next update! Hopefully this clears up everything for most of you. I just got really excited that I got these ideas and had to write them. So basically Leo is looking at a photo album and talking to you, the reader, while he's going through it, you're like an old friend kind of and its super nostalgic. (Yes I know #fourthwallbroken but I thought it may be really interesting like if you like this let me know if not, I won't do it again I was just experimenting).
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please be sure to comment any questions or just if you like the story! The support really keeps me going and writing more! enjoy xx  
> p.s follow my tumblr blog: monetmarjr (if you want to).
> 
> -Kiarra <3

>>>> LEO'S POV TALKING TO YOU, THE READER AS AN OLD FRIEND <<<<

 

It was a long time since I had held that old photo album in my hands, the leather cover was worn out and tearing at the edges, but I refused to get a new one.  My father had made the book when I turned 18 as a going away present when I moved out.  It is still one of my fondest treasures.

 

...

 

The first picture in my photo album was a picture of me and Cristiano, standing with our arms around each other, smiling big, toothy smiles.  He just lost one of his front teeth and immediately had to show me, his mom took a photo to remember the moment.  We were best friends.  Emphasis on the ‘ _were_ ’ part.  I remember seeing his face plastered on the front window of the house next to the one we just moved into.  He was small then, childlike curiosity and excitement of having a new friend sent him into a delighted fury.  Cristiano ran to the kitchen where his mom was cooking lunch, he tugged on her skirt and begged her to let him visit their new neighbors, but she stopped him, telling him to let us settle in and then they would take cookies over to us later.  

My mother and father were unpacking our living room when we heard our doorbell at our door.  When we opened it, the small boy was holding a platter of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies with a gigantic grin spread across his face.  His mother stood behind him, hands resting on her son’s shoulders in an attempt to calm him and prevent him from scaring the new people.  While the moms chatted, Cris and I rode our bikes around the neighborhood, he showed me all the great hiding places up in trees and what he called ‘ _the best slide in the whole world_ ’ a twisty yellow slide on the nearest playground.  From then on, we were inseparable, he was my protector, he scared off all the bullies in the 5th grade and helped me with homework.  

 

...

 

I flipped a couple pages to the picture of us with our large backpacks, sitting on the stairs of my house, ready for the first day of high-school.  Memories of those years swarmed my head, as I remembered how things changed when we got into high-school though, how _he changed_.  He took up habits of his father, heavy drinking at parties and even sleeping around with girls he had never met.  I tried to help him, but no amount of advice I gave him would change his ways.  But what hurt the most was that I was beginning to lose my best friend, as I wasn’t ‘cool’ enough for his lifestyle anymore.  The afternoons we spent in my garage playing video games were soon changed to him going to the skatepark with his new, cooler friends.  My garage got quiet, no yelling at the tv in terror as zombies attacked, no yelling “pass” when we played our football games and celebrating when one of us scored.  It was no fun playing alone.  

 

...

 

The next picture was of me and a girl named Antonella, studying in the kitchen.  I was in the middle of yelling at my mom, telling her to leave us alone as she giggled and snapped several more, poking fun at how I never had any girls over, while Antonella was laughing in the background.  That’s how I remembered her.  Large brown eyes that made me feel like I was home and that beautiful smile that put stars to shame.  I think that was the only good thing that came from this Cristiano and I’s friendship break: I got to spend time with the new girl, a girl that I thought was the prettiest girl in the world.  We had Spanish classes together and her eyes would light up whenever we talked about the greats like Miguel de Cervantes or Shakespeare.  Her poetry was the best by far though, I’m sure she would’ve given them, even the greats, a run for their money; her words leapt off of the page and shot arrows through my heart, her voice, singing a thousand songs.  We hit it off too, well, I would like to think we did.  She and I would video chat some nights and talk about our futures in college and our choices in the Afterlife, there was never a dull conversation.  But, at the time, I was too shy to make a move on her; after all she was the sun and I was a mere firefly.  I would casually ask her to study, even missing a couple assignments in math to drop my grade so thatI could spend time with her convincing her she was helping my grade.  She would tutor me some days, and I would always be sure to make her favorite snacks (chili and lime popcorn) and drinks.  We had become inseparable.  

 

...

 

I turned the page to find, pasted in the photo album, two tickets to our senior prom, though one of them was never used.  A rainy afternoon, Cris was grounded so we spent the afternoon together, for the first time in two months (not like I was counting).  And I made the fatal decision to tell him about her.  His eyes shone with something I couldn’t put my finger on at the time, but later realized that it was mischief and desire.  He was one of those guys who could get any girl he wanted with the snap of his fingers, and I am, well: me.  

Long story short, he stole Antonella away from me, without my knowledge.   He let me chase her, and filled me with sugar coated lies of how she was playing hard to get and how he talked to her to give me a chance.  When I finally asked her on prom, we were in the hallway at the end of a school day, Cris was standing behind me fueling me with the confidence I needed to spill my heart to her, and boy did I.  

I told her everything.  How I loved how she pushed her glasses up on her nose when she was reading, the way she twisted the tips of her hair when she was formulating thoughts, even the way she dotted her i's made me fall for her even more.  I even had a sign that Cris helped me make that said some stupid pun and "Prom?" written across it in an obnoxious shade of green, and I even got up extra early to buy her favorite flowers: marigolds.  She said they reminded her of the sunsets she saw when she traveled to Greece.  

But, my proposal was met with the boisterous laughter of my "friends" behind me, Cristiano doubled over, slapping his thighs with excitement, when I turned back around Antonella’s face was washed over with sadness and pity and I wanted to throw up, to run far away and never see her again.  This is what I was afraid of.  Denial.  

But it only got worse, she glanced behind me at the group of people that began to form and said in a low voice, “Did Cris not tell you?”  I spun around to face him and he only grinned, arms crossed.  

“Tell him what?  About how you screamed my name last night?  And the night before and before that one too?” He turned to give Gareth a high-five and I had never felt so stupid.  

Stupid for thinking a girl like her would ever love me, clouding my thoughts and dreams with false hopes and twisted lies, stupid for trusting him and stupid for not seeing what was happening right in front of me.  

Tears began to well up as I turned back to Anto who rolled her eyes at Cristiano and then reached her hand out to place it on my arm to comfort me, but it hurt too much; I dropped the flowers and sign, petals flying across the floor.  The day outside was stormy and I ran home as the rain fell, collapsed on my bed and cried much more than I am willing to admit.  

I couldn’t believe that I lost my best friend and the only girl who ever understood me in the same day.  

 

...

 

The next picture was an excerpt from a newspaper, it was crumpled and ripped poorly, causing half of the story to be missing, but all I cared about was the headline.  

Years had past and I had nearly forgotten about Cristiano and Antonella, about the pain they caused me, until the day I saw Cristiano as a headline in the newspaper.  He had apparently died in a house fire with an unknown cause.  For a split second of selfishness, I was happy.  I couldn’t help but think that he got he deserved for putting me through hell when we were younger, but that soon washed over with remorse as those bad memories were overshadowed by all of the good times we had together.  We never even got to sign our Afterlife contracts together.  

(You see, your Firstlife doesn’t really matter, riches, crimes and other misdemeanors are all swept clean when you die.  The only decision that matters in the Firstlife is choosing between Exitium and Adustum and signing their respective contracts before you die.  If you don’t, however, you end up in Neutrilia, a land of eternal pain and punishment for a person’s inability to choose where they belong during their Firstlife.  There are tall-tales of how some people there swim in pools of lava, while others are rained on by acid rain, though no one has records of this, we are all too scared to not choose and end up in that deranged place.)

 

...

 

I flipped the page and there I was, smiling widely as I signed the contract to Adustum, on my 20th birthday.  I was with a couple of my new friends from my accounting job, they were okay, I guess, just some people I occupied myself with so I wasn’t too lonely.  They were utterly boring but at least they were something.  

 

...

 

The next picture was me at my new house in Adustum, it’s a simple house in the city with nothing more than I need to live comfortably.  It’s not that we can’t splurge on expensive and flashy items we choose not to, we find no need to since we all live in harmony within our communities.  That’s what I loved about this realm, and why I chose it.  Adustum is a place of peace and communities with equal rights and opportunities for all.  Each person has a job, but we are required to be able to perform everyone’s specialty, which makes us all skilled and well-rounded in each area.  The king always tells us of how we decide destiny, creating our own path with our free-will and gives us all freedom to live in ways most suitable for ourselves and our communities.  Values that also lead to my decision to live here.

 

...

 

This is a much different environment than the picture that followed, one of the realm of Exitium, where Cristiano ended up, but I guess it’s better than ending up in Neutrilia.  Their queen promotes ideas of fate and their inability to control their paths, which is much like how he rules: with a harsh and heavy hand.  She enforces rules which punish the criminal more brutally than the crime they commit.  Money, fame and gluttony are prevalent in this realm as there is a clear separation between the warriors and people like the messengers.  

I have heard stories of their realm and how there is a large crystal castle in the middle where the queen rules with her servants that kiss the polished floor she walks on.  The closer their quarters are to the castle the more things they receive from the queen.  At the top of the food chain are the fighters and warriors, then the workers and covenants, and finally come the messengers and watchers.  

The picture was one I snagged from an old history book, it was an aerial view of the realm.  It kind of looked like a target, one large ring in the middle, which belonged to the queen, surrounded by other rings signifying rank and importance.  A clear divide between the common people and those of high rank.  

 

...

 

Then began the pictures of Neymar.  My leader sent me a couple pictures of him, along with little anecdotes in order for me to fully understand him, so as to build a relationship with him and gain his trust.  There was one of him smiling with another man, seemingly before he ended up in that terrible asylum and another of him strapped down to an electric chair supposedly insulting the operator, calling him weak and other cursed names as he got shocked repeatedly.  

The last picture in the book was one of his face, he was smiling, eyes crinkled beautifully as he looked at something off camera.  Sometimes I would stare at this picture, memorizing the placement of all the green flecks in his eyes or counting his eyelashes.  At times my heart would start beating quickly if I listened in to some of his thoughts, filled with half-lost memories.  It physically pained me to see him punished, and my best friend, Suárez, would have to hold me back from trying to rescue him, pulling me back and reminding me that the time would come.

 

...

 

My tv was on in the background, then the breaking news alarm blared through my house.  It was another reminder of how the realms are at war, speaking of how the 100 year anniversary of the war was nearing, the prophecy was soon to be fulfilled.  

The ancient scroll supposedly states that one man, more powerful and good than anyone to have lived and gone to a realm would put an end to the war, but the prophecy never said where the man would sign his Afterlife to.  So, Cristiano and I were sent by our king and queen to recruit Neymar and any other potential suitors trapped in the asylum and other's like it.  

I don’t think you would believe how mad our king was when I told him that those nasty scientists got to these people, only wanting them because they were testing their brain activities since they knew they were important to us, along with some of the others trapped in the other locations.  Those guys are smart; they would drug each of their patients, giving them symptoms of different mental illnesses to see how their body would respond, and if it would adapt to combat these illnesses.  

Their whole purpose was to try and genetically adapt their genes to become pretty much immune to any of these disorders like depression, OCD and schizophrenia, creating their idea of a perfect human.  In order to carry out these experiments, they needed the best of the best, like Neymar and the others with good bodies which were able to put up with the grueling tests and punishments they put them through to try and provoke their genetic mutation.  They think that the one person who would become this "perfect person" would be the one who ends the war in the Afterlife.

I believe that the “one” is Neymar, you see, we have been monitoring his behavior, his thoughts and anything else we can while he was in the asylum.  Neymar was one of their best patients, which is why I tried to save Neymar was about a month and a half into his ‘treatment’.  His genes were mutating at an impossible rate and he became immune to most of their pills within weeks, giving him more and more doses every day before he eventually stopped showing symptoms, making them change to a different disorder.  

But we can't be too sure it is, in fact, Neymar, because they never got to continue their studies on him and a few others that showed similar results, since, after they caught us and almost killed me and Cristiano, they stopped most testing, and started hiding their results, in an attempt to keep us from uncovering the truth that we already knew.  All we had to do was wait for the perfect moment to free Neymar and others like him.  

That moment took almost a year and a half to come by, which was when I entered the asylum in the shell of Gerard.  

Us in the afterlife have the ability to take on the form of any human ‘shell’ or body, as most know it by, in order to appear more human-like and hide from the those belonging to enemy realms.  After the months of getting to know Neymar, it became real to me of who he is as a person; he is much more than stats and numbers on the paper.  The way his eyes sparkled when we talked, how he would stutter if I brushed my hand against his…  I mean... he is a very intelligent and tough person whom I’m glad I got the opportunity to get acquainted with.  

Anyway, why would he like me anyway, it’s not like I’m anything special, and once he gets to meet Cristiano my point will be further proven.  I’m not usually the guys or girls swoon over, and Cristiano can get anyone with a heartbeat to fall head-over heels with him.  Maybe if I can just keep him to myself a bit, I can grow our friendship more and have an advantage over Cris.  Finally one-upping him.

 

...

 

Oh yes, back to the mission, my king expects me to get more recruits like Neymar, the ones from the asylum who have potential, though most of them were killed while trying to escape, I think that we may be able to save a couple more before Cristiano is able to get to them.  We are in the process of rebuilding our army since the last attacks from Exitium killing thousands of our best troops and we need anyone we can get at this point.

 

...

 

My phone lit up on the table next to the photo album with a message from my leader, "Cristiano is hot on Neymar’s trail and headed for the cave he's sleeping in now.  We cannot risk him signing with Exitium.  Under no circumstances do you lose this deal or you'll find yourself dancing in the acid rain of Neutrilia.  Best of luck. -C"  

Well, I guess that reunion was going to happen sooner than I originally thought. 


End file.
